


Antidote

by Windian



Series: The Blizzard and What Came After [2]
Category: Tales of Graces
Genre: Gen, Sickfic, platonic-or-is-it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 19:36:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12091959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windian/pseuds/Windian
Summary: After their rescue for the mountain, Hubert's fever lingers. Asbel looks after him, much to Hubert's chagrin.





	Antidote

* * *

“Sophie, can I ask you something?”

The Zavhert inn was a blissful reprieve against the cold. Sat around the table as they waited for their dinner, Asbel dropped his voice to a whisper.

“Asbel?” Sophie’s curious eyes rose to meet his.

“Do you think Hubert is ignoring me?” he asked, before amending, “uh, I mean. More than unusual.”

After their misadventures on Mt Zavert, the two of them had needed several days of bed rest. It had been a miracle that their friends had found them. Asbel didn't remember Sophie carrying him down the mountain; only waking up in the inn, feeling sorer than he had after the hardest sparring session at the Knight Academy. But Cheria's healing magic had chased away the worst of the frostbite; several days in bed had done the rest.

So Asbel had thought, anyway, as he stole a glance at his brother across the table. They’d barely spoken since the the avalanche, and Hubert hadn’t said a word to him since they sat down for dinner.

It wasn’t his brother’s usual brand of gloominess, either. None of his staple sarcasm, and he hadn’t even got mad at Pascal all evening. Instead, something about him seemed unsettled. Elbows on the table, he fussed with the collar of his coat, eyes glazed, looking into some other place.

He still didn't look as well as he insisted, either.

Something sunk in Asbel’s gut. He thought after their talk, getting everything out in the air, their relationship might improve. But instead, if anything, Hubert's frosty demeanor seemed to have deepened.

“Hubert,” Sophie said. “Are you ignoring Asbel?”

“S-Sophie!” Asbel exclaimed. She inclined her head at him, as though to ask, _didn’t you want to know?_

In retrospect, he probably chose the wrong person to talk about this kind of thing with.

Hubert snapped out of his fugue, eyes clashing against Asbel’s, in a way that flipped his stomach.

The rest of the table turned to watch, Pascal standing up and leaning over the table to gawk.

Hubert flushed pink, crossing his arms against his chest. “Of course not.”

“She kinda has a point, Lil Bro,” Pascal said, ignoring Cheria as she pulled at her sleeve to try to drag her back down to the table. “You’ve been acting kinda funky since you got out of bed. What’s up?”

“Nothing is ‘up,’” Hubert snapped. “Can’t a man keep to his thoughts without these sort of accusations?”

Captain Malik leant forward on his elbows. “I’m not sure Pascal was accusing you of anything, Hubert.”

For some reason, Hubert flushed harder. “I don’t want to deal with this foolishness now.”

And then, without looking at Asbel at all, he pushed his chair back with a scraping sound and headed for the door, leaving the rest of the party in silence.

“What’s wrong with Hubert?” Sophie asked, brow drawn together.

Pascal shrugged her shoulders. “Musta' woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

Asbel just didn’t understand. His stomach felt uneasy, as though the bottom had dropped out. He raised his eyes, to meet Cheria’s concerned gaze.

“Heeey,” said Pascal, “if Lil Bro’s not eating, can I get his dessert?”

 

*

 

Striding out into the snow, Hubert took a deep breath.

He had to clear the snow from the bench before he could sit.

With his hands buried deeply in his pockets, burning and itchy from chillblains, he could still swear he could feel Asbel’s hands, caressing his. Could feel Asbel’s collarbone as he’d pressed against him, how fiercely his brother had held him.

Hubert groaned, and pressed his palms against his eyelids. But he still couldn’t manage to blot the humiliating memories out. Being so nauseatingly honest was fine when he thought he and Asbel were going to die, but _now_...

The snow crunched behind him. Hubert jerked up, ready to see Asbel following him out into the snow, to tell him to leave.

But his words caught. It was just Cheria, her brow knotted in concern.

“Hubert, you shouldn’t be out here in the snow. You’ve only just got over your fever,” she told him.

“Cheria, I’m sorry, but I’d like to be alone for now. I need to think.”

But instead, Cheria wiped the snow from the bench beside him, and took a seat. “Has it helped so far?” she asked, with a smile.

“Well…” he said.

She rubbed her hands together, pressing them to her face to blow on them. “Sometimes I need time to think things over too. But there usually comes a point when I realise what I’m actually doing is just sulking.” She smiled, apologetically.

“C-Cheria!”

“Sorry,” she said.

“I’m starting to see that harsh side of you Asbel mentioned,” Hubert said.

She turned pink. “Wait, he said that?”

“He said you were right too, though.”

“Oh.” Her smile crept up. “It’s funny. No matter how many years I’ve known Asbel, he never fails to surprise me.”

“I know what you mean,” Hubert said. “He’s changed, from when we were children.”

We all have, he thought.

Cheria nodded. “He’s… just as oblivious as he ever was, but… he’s gentler now, I think. I think that’s the right word.”

Gentler. Hubert had never thought of it like that.

“But… he’s less sure of himself, too,” Cheria said, gazing up at the star-speckled sky, pulling her knees up to herself. “He doesn’t like to talk about it, but I think what happened with Sophie when were kids really affected him. I not sure he ever got over it. That’s why he can’t figure out what do do about Richard.”

Once, Hubert would have made a biting remark that Asbel was weak, to cling onto such feelings.

But instead, he felt admiration, mixed with a pang of envy.

He’d only survived by throwing away those kind of feelings, by hardening himself. But Asbel had hurt and suffered as he had, and become kinder. “Gentler,” Cheria had said.

“You ought to talk to him,” Cheria told him, turning to him on the bench. “You realise if you wait on him, you’ll be waiting forever, right? I’m sure whatever happened between you on the mountain, you can work it out.”

Hubert asked… “You’re not going to ask what happened?”

“Well… I can’t say I’m not curious,” Cheria said with a smile, “but it’s none of my business is it really? Grandpa always told me I should never get involved in fights between siblings.”

“Thank you for advice Cheria, I’ll think of what you said,” Hubert said, dipping his head.

Cheria laughed, and patted him on the shoulder. “Sure, Hubert.”

 

Asbel watched Pascal eat both her and Hubert’s portion of pie without really seeing it.

“Hey, Asbel? Earth to Asbel? You in there?”

Asbel snapped back to reality. “Huh? Pascal?”

“I asked, you gonna eat your pie?”

He raised his eyebrows. “You can’t seriously still be hungry.”

“I seriously still can. You want that pie or not? It’s looking pretty lonely on that plate.”

With a sigh, Asbel pushed the plate across the table. He watched with dismayed bafflement as she polished it off in about twenty seconds, getting pie crumbs everywhere down herself.

Even knowing more about her Amarcian heritage and family, Pascal didn’t make any more sense.

Asbel shivered when he felt a draft from the opening inn door. He turned to see Hubert, his cheeks bruised pink from the cold. For a moment, he stopped, and looked at Asbel.

Asbel opened his mouth to speak.

Hubert seemed to bite down, and then his heels were clicking across the floorboards, as he beat a swift pace back to his room.

Asbel closed his mouth.

“I just don’t get it,” he said heavily.

“Iknowright,” Pascal mumbled, mouth full of pie. He cringed at the pie juice dribbled down her chin. She swallowed. “Especially since you guys looked so cosy when we found you. Like what’s his deal?”

The memory was hazy, but Asbel had a moment of recollection: how he'd tried to take his clothes off on the mountain. Huh. That was weird. He'd think about that later.

“I really thought we'd had a breakthrough. You know, I finally got to talk to him about some stuff that's been bothering me for a long time. I thought he felt the same way.” Asbel stared at his coffee cup, depressed.

“Heeey, I get it! Lil Bro’s such a stiff, but I bet he’s been totally missing his big bro all this time. But he’s such a square that now he’s admitted it, he’s all embarrassed. So you gotta just go tell him how much you love him!”

Asbel flushed. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah! And bring him in for a big bro hug.”

Was it really that simple? “Are… you sure about this Pascal?”

“Totally! Trust me, Fourier and I fought all the time growing up. We always made up. But…” Pascal’s smile faded.

At the same time, they both recalled the incident at the lab: Fourier telling Pascal how much she'd always hated her.

“Well… maybe not,” Pascal said, pushing her fork around her empty plate. “Siblings are complicated, huh?”

“You're not wrong,” said Asbel.

 

*

 

Hubert was pacing in his room when the knock came. Tentative, and uncertain.

“Hey, Hubert?” Asbel called.

Hubert froze.

“Are you still awake?”

If he waited, Hubert thought, Asbel would leave.

But the knock came again, more confidentially. “Hey, Hubert. Can we talk?”

Slowly, Hubert approached the door.. He tried his best not to make a noise.

“C’mon, Hubert… don’t be like this.”

Hubert pressed a hand to his head. It felt hot. As much as he hated to admit it, Cheria had been right. It’d been foolish to go into the snow when he hadn’t completely recovered. A wave of light-headedness rocked through him, and he steadied himself, leaning back against the door.

Asbel's voice came through the door as though he was stood inches away: “I thought we talked stuff through before… I don’t know why you’re being like this.”

Me neither, thought Hubert, letting his aching head rest against the oak.

“C’mon, Hubert. I know you don’t go to bed this early.”

In an utter betrayal, Hubert’s body decided this was the optimal time for a sneeze.

“Uh. Hubert…”

Damn it.

Face-beet red, Hubert opened the door to his brother.

“Oh man. Hubert. You… don’t look so good.”

“You think?” said Hubert, voice hoarse and scratchy.

“Come on. You should be in bed.”

“Alright,” accepted Hubert, who suddenly had no fight left in him. He felt very poorly indeed. Enough that when Asbel pressed a hand to the small of his back to guide him to the bed, another wave of light-headedness washed over him. Hubert found himself grasping onto Asbel’s arm for balance.

“Whoah! You OK? Just hold onto me, Hubert. I’ve got you.”

Face splotchy pink and humiliated, Hubert could do nothing but bury his head in Asbel’s shoulder as he led him to the bed and settled him down.

He longed for death to come as Asbel tucked him, fluffing his pillow behind him. “Better?”

“Yes, thank you...”

Hubert closed his eyes, as though he could will the situation away, only opening them when he felt the bed sink down to accommodate Asbel’s weight.

“Hubert, listen. If I do something to upset you, I want you to tell me. I mean, I know I’m not always the perceptive person…”

You think, Hubert thought.

“But I want us to be friends again, even if we can’t go back to how things were when were kids. So if I’ve done something…”

This situation was unbearable. “You haven’t done anything, Asbel,” he said quickly.

Asbel’s brow wrinkled. “Then…”

Hubert bit down on his lip.

“I see…”

Hubert’s gaze flicked back to Asbel, panicked. “You see what?”

“You can’t trust me yet… I understand.” Asbel kept the cheerful lilt to his tone, but sadness was in his eyes. “I mean… I get it. Everything can’t be fixed in just one day. But I want you to know I’m going to try.” He nodded to himself, that old determined Asbel in him. “I don’t want things to be bad between us.”

That’s not it, Hubert wanted to say. He reached out for— what?

To his shock, Asbel grasped his hand, and studied it in concern. “What’s happened to your fingers?”

“Chillblains,” Hubert’s voice was shockingly steady and clinical. “When the cold causes blood to rise to the surface, and—”

“Does it hurt?” Asbel asked, turning his hand over. Hubert shivered.

“A— a little. It’s… itchy, mostly.”

“I bet we’ve got something for that in the inventory. Let me ask Cheria.”

“That not neces—” before he could continue, Asbel had already gone.

Hubert’s head hit the pillow. He sighed, covering his eyes with his hands.

 

*

 

 

“I need more blankets,” Asbel told the inkeep, hands wide apart on the desk.

The innkeep raised his brows. “You building a blanket fort or something? What do you need ‘em all for?” It was with reluctance he handed over another bundle.

“My brother’s still not feeling well.”

“Wait, you were the boys who got trapped in that avalanche, aren’t you? You’re lucky you’re both alive.”

“I know.”

“Well, lemme know if you need anything else,” said the innkeep. “Though I’m gonna run out of blankets if you need many more.”

He carried them back to Hubert’s room, where there the Hubert: blanket ratio was becoming thoroughly skewed in the _blanket_ direction.

“Asbel,” Hubert protested, the voice rising from the blanket pile, “I told you, I’m not cold.”

“Yeah, but you might get cold in the night,” Asbel said, dumping them onto the dresser. He scraped up a chair close to the bed and pulled a tube of cream from his pocket. “Also I got this apple gel ointment from Cheria. She thinks it should help with your chillblains.”

“You really didn’t need to go to all this trouble, Asbel,” Hubert protested, but Asbel shook his head.

“I wanted to!” he said.

He hadn’t been able to help look after Hubert for so long… finally, now, he could begin to make amends.

So he didn’t notice Hubert’s rising panic until he picked Hubert’s hand up from above the coverlet, and Hubert’s voice rose in a sharp octave: “A-Asbel— what are you doing?”

“Applying the ointment,” Asbel said, matter of factly.

“I- I can do it myself!”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind,” said Asbel, popping the cap off and squeezing some of the ointment into his hand. It was gooey, like apple gel. He began rubbing it into Hubert’s palm, in small circles.

Hubert’s protests ceased.

The joints by the fingers were hardened from his dual blade training, but Hubert’s palms were unexpectedly soft, fingers tender from the chillblains. Asbel tried to be as gentle as a he could, concentrating on rubbing the ointment into the affected areas.

Another unexpected thing: how quiet Hubert had suddenly gone.

“Is this OK?” he asked, looking up to see Hubert, biting his lip. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

Hubert shook his head, hair mussing against the pillow. A pink stain had spread across his cheeks. “N-no…”

“Good.”

A comfortable silence eased in between them. Asbel finished rubbing in the rest of the ointment. The fever was high in Hubert now. His eyelids were drooping.

“I'm sorry I've been acting so peculiarly, brother,” he said.

Asbel shook his head. “It's fine.”

“I'm just not used to it,” Hubert said. When Asbel looked at him enquiringly, he said, “you know...”

“You're gonna have to spell this one out for me, little brother.”

“Ugh. You know....emotions,” Hubert said, in disgust.

Asbel laughed. He set the ointment bottle on the side table. “It's fine, Hubert,” he repeated.

“It isn't. Garett taught me that emotions were weaknesses that could be exploited. They left you exposed. But...” With obvious effort, Hubert raised his eyes. His gaze clashed against Asbel's, and the warmth in his brother's eyes sparked something off his heart. Hubert couldn't hold it. He looked away, staring out the window, mumbling, “I'm glad we talked. And I'll try to do better.”

Inspired by the warm glow in his chest, Asbel lent forward. He planted a kiss on Hubert's forehead, which turned his brother's already-pink face red as a tomato. Over his stammering, Asbel instructed him: “Get some rest, Hubert.”

 

 

 


End file.
